


Defeating Nightmares

by Jade_Dragoness



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M, post movie canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-23
Updated: 2008-05-23
Packaged: 2017-10-19 04:36:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade_Dragoness/pseuds/Jade_Dragoness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the prompt: K/S - Nero tortures Kirk. Spock comforts him afterwards though Kirk resists at first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Defeating Nightmares

“I know your face from Earth‘s history,” Nero said, just before he grabbed Jim and tossed him hard into a bulkhead. He stalked to him and kicked him hard.

Jim grunted, tried to twist away but Nero just kicked him again. He had to bite back a yell as his ribs screamed at him. He got himself up to take a swing at Nero, but the Romulan caught it with ease and tossed him again.

Jim scrambled to try to get a grip on the metal walkway beneath him. Trying and failing to get any kind of purchase as Nero pinned him to the floor, his thighs rested at both sides of Jim‘s chest, holding him in place. Nero grasped his neck, tightening his grip slowly. Jim tried to buck him off, desperate to get any air but Nero’s superior strength held him down.

“But even more importantly,” Nero whispered with venom and madness in his voice like an ugly stain. He got closer until his face just barely touched Jim‘s own. “I know how important you are to Spock.”

 _He doesn’t even like me!_ Jim thought in protest.

Nero raised his free hand and the knife flashed silver even in the dim light of the Romulan ship.  
*-*-*-*

James T. Kirk gasped and struggled to breathe.

“Computer. Lights,” he choked out. The lights went up, illuminating the captain’s quarters on the Enterprise.

“Son of a bitch,” Jim breathed. “Not again. Fuck.” He rubbed his face with his hands. This was the third day in a row he was having those nightmares about being back on Nero’s ship. He thought he’d be over them by now, it had been a solid month since the attack on Earth, but only a few of days since the Enterprise had left dry dock. That’s when the nightmares started. It was hard to shrug off the nightmares as just dreams when the things were based on real memories.

He could still feel the cold metal of Nero’s knife cutting into his sides, not digging deeply enough to kill just enough to expose the nerves under Jim‘s skin. He could feel the too hot non-human touch on his face, on his chest, on his dick, just holding him down as Nero drew nonsensical sigils with his knife. Nero had gotten a kick on hearing him scream.

 _Sadistic motherfucker!_

It had taken everything Jim had to keep himself together to rescue Captain Pike, after Nero had released him to his subordinate. Lasting until Bones was free to patch him up, had taken all his stubborn refusal not to give in to his fear, to his panic at the memory of being so helpless. Even then, it had been a near thing. If he’d been alone for even a moment- Jim didn’t think that he’d have been able to keep his control intact.

Bar fights, and three years of Starfleet training didn’t exactly prepare anyone to face a madman who knew how to make you scream. Who enjoyed reminding his victim that he’d also been responsible for the death of his father. That he would be responsible for the death of his world.

Hell, Jim was still surprised he’d made it past the psych evals and that no one had caught on and sent him to a counselor. Jim was kind of proud of tricking the tests, although he probably only squeaked by because everyone and their cousin had been traumatized by Nero. And that was just from his attack on Earth. Once the news of the destruction of all those starships, and Vulcan had hit the news feeds of the Federation… well, if Nero hadn’t specifically said he didn’t have anything to do with the Romulan Empire, the Federation would be at war right now, with Earth leading the charge.

Jim swallowed hard, and threw himself out of bed.

Unease made him feel like electricity was coursing through his veins, and into his muscles, making him jittery, forcing him to move. So he paced, hoping to wear it out. It didn’t help.

He wanted to hit something until bones broke. He wanted to drink until the next three days were nothing but blurs and black outs. He wanted to fuck someone or have someone fuck him until all he felt and could remember feeling was pleasure.

It was times like these that being the responsible starship captain was easily the worst job in universe.

At least at the gym there was something he could pound his frustrations on.  
*-*-*-*

Considering how terrible his luck was running that night, Jim shouldn’t have been surprised that the only other being at the gym at this hour was Spock.

 _Did the man ever sleep?_

Wearing loose black robes, Spock was flowing through a complex looking kata that didn’t look like anything Jim had ever seen at the Academy. It looked restful. _Beautiful._

If Jim had been in any other mood, he would have stopped to appreciate the view. As it is, he only acknowledged Spock with a quick glance before heading over the punching bag. Jim didn’t stop to warm up, or stretch, he just punched. Hitting the bag hard enough to move it. Then hitting it again with a series of jabs that made his knuckles sting.

Jim sank himself into his body, refusing to think, just sending punch after punch at the bag. He didn’t even picture Nero’s face at the end of his fist. He didn’t want any reminder of that bastard. He just wanted to exhaust himself to the point that when he returned to his quarters he could sleep without dreams of any sort.

Jim lost track of time.

“Captain. Captain.”

Jim ignored the call for his attention. Nothing mattered but punching.

Until a too hot hand clamped down on his arm as Jim sent another punch at the bag.

Snarling, Jim’s head jerked over to Spock.

“If you continue with these actions you will incur further damage,” said Spock calmly.

“I‘m fine!” snapped Jim. He tried to tug himself away from Spock’s grip but the man refused to let go.

“You‘re knuckles are bleeding and several look to be bruised, possibly even dislocated,” said Spock, his dark eyes studying Jim’s hands with intensity. The skin on all the knuckles were torn, and red blood stained his fingers, palms and a lot of the surface area of the punching bag.

Jim would have called Spock’s expression to be one concern if he‘d been able to read Spock better. It was probably just curiosity over the latest moronic thing his Captain had done. Jim was certain that Spock kept a list, neatly indexed and categorized by the time, event and whatever level of stupid Jim had sunk to that day. Normally it amused him to think of Spock applying scientific methods to his actions, but just not at this moment.

Jim tried to get himself free again but Spock’s grip was undeniably stronger.

Panic flickered in Jim’s gut.

Spock’s eyes snapped to Jim’s and he instantly released his hold.

Jim took an involuntary step back before forcing himself to stop. He was _not_ afraid of Spock. It was just those stupid shitty _dreams!_ It wasn’t Spock’s fault that his body temperature was the same a Romulan‘s. As Nero’s had been.

“I‘m fine,” repeated Jim.

Spock’s dark eyed intensity was back and staring into Jim’s eyes with that same intensity.

 _Phaser banks have nothing on those eyes,_ thought Jim.

Spock‘s mouth flattened. “Captain, in the past 68 hours you have suffered a drop of efficiency by a factor of 31.48 percent and-”

Jim stiffened.

Spock continued, “It‘s the duty of the first officer to care for the captain‘s well being. If there is a way that I can assist-”

“Spock! I already got a mother. I don‘t need two,” Jim cut him off.

Spock gaze, if anything, rose several notches in power.

“You have been dreaming of Nero,” said Spock flatly.

Jim’s breath froze in his lungs.

“The walls between our quarters share an air filtration duct that allows sounds audible to the Vulcan auditory range to pass through it,” Spock explained. “And -” Spock straightened up, as if forcing himself to continued. “When we were beamed back to the Enterprise, that day, I smelled fresh blood.”

“Yeah, well, Pike was hurt pretty badly,” Jim said, turning away from Spock. Panic was building up in him again. He did _not_ want to talk about this.

“The blood was your own,” said Spock.

It was too much for Jim and without another word he walked away. Ran away, if he was being honest with himself.

It wasn’t until he was punching in his destination into the turbolift that Jim started to shake. He slammed the lift to a stop and sank to a crouch. His hands tightened into painful fists, and he snarled.

It was too much.

 _Spock should have left it alone!_

Panting angrily, Jim got a hold of himself. Slowly he rose, tightened his spine and returned to lift to motion.

So, when the lift door opened again, Jim was caught off guard by Spock waiting for him.

Spock didn’t even wait for Jim to say a word. He just stepped in, pushing him back into the lift and punched in a code too quickly for Jim to catch in.

“What do you think you‘re doing?” yelled Jim.

“I have tried every possible means of conveying my support,” said Spock. “But to no avail. So, I have decided to ‘speak the language you understand’- so to speak - since it wouldn‘t actually require the use of any of my xeno-linguistic abilities.”

Jim gaped at him. “And what language is that?” he finally asked.

Spock took a step closer to him. Jim narrowed his eyes.

Then, before Jim could flinch or back away, Spock grasped the back of his head and his jaw, tilting Jim’s face up at just the right angle for Spock’s lips.

Stunned, Jim didn’t move, held in place by smooth heated lips and a grip that for once didn’t remind him a Romulan.

Spock’s kiss was gentle, firm and determined but gentle. Jim would almost think it soft, if Spock’s hard body wasn’t obviously clear from how it pressed against his own. Even the way that Spock held him in place was considerate, pulling Jim off balance just enough so that his weight rested against him.

And something deep inside of Jim loosened and then heated like a supernova.

Groaning, Jim hardened. He arched his back until his hips pressed greedily into Spock. Grinding into him, feeling Spock harden under the thin layers of the exercise robe.

Spock’s low moan vibrated onto his mouth and Jim parted his lips eagerly, wanting to feel those sounds against his teeth, his tongue, and deep into his throat. He grabbed Spock’s shoulders, holding him in place as his tongue flickered into that hot Vulcan mouth. And Jim wondered how it would feel around his cock.

Spock’s hands drifted down, sliding down the path of his spine, until they gripped Jim’s hips.

Jim, a black-belt in clothes removal, kicked of his boots and was tugging at his pants with one hand while the other went for Spock’s.

“If you‘re going to fuck me, Spock,” he warned, “you sure as hell better do it now.” He would not wait. Jim didn’t have the patience for it. He’d push Spock down and fuck him if the man didn’t fuck him instead.

“I have disabled the monitors in the lift,” said Spock, in agreement, his voice deeper and harsher than Jim was used to hearing.

It actually made him harder, made his cock twitch and smeared pre-cum against Spock’s top.

Then Spock flipped him around.

Jim barely got his arms up in time to brace himself against the walls of the lift, and he parted his legs. Spock pressed a hand to his neck, sliding it down his back again, until it rested at Jim’s ass.

Jim heard a click, like that of a cap being flicked open, then lube heated by Vulcan skin and pressed in by Spock’s finger, slipped inside him.

It was a low burn that made Jim pant, wide mouthed, head tossed back, as he opened himself to Spock’s touch.

“Hurry up,” Jim ordered. “You don‘t need to be so careful!”

“If you insist,” said Spock, pulling back.

Then a press of thick, hot moist flesh. And Spock didn’t even hesitate. Just pushed in, slowly and unrelenting.

Jim yelled.

A greater burn. An edge of pain that was also a pleasure.

Exactly what he wanted. What Jim _needed._

Spock gave him a breath to adjust and then started a pace that made Jim grip the sleek edges of the walls, his fingers leaving faint red smears, in a desperate attempt to hold himself in place as pleasure spiked through his body with every push of Spock’s erection inside him.

Then for the second time that night, Jim lost himself in the feel of his body.  
*-*-*-*

The high of an orgasm, that definitely topped the charts of being among the best Jim had ever experienced, finally dropped enough for Jim to get his brain working again, and get him to notice he was down on the floor of the lift and he had no idea when he’d gotten there.

Jim blinked sweat from his eyes and turned his head to the side to see Spock.

His first officer was also on the floor, leaning against the lift walls, his cheeks flushed, his lips a darker shade of green, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction that was too easy to read. Jim would have grumbled at the smugness if he hadn’t felt too good to do anything else but bask in the feeling of his mind and body finally relaxing, losing the tension that had been building from the nightmares.

Nero, defeated by Spock yet again.

Idly, Jim wondered what Starfleet would say if he put this down as worthy of a commendation in Spock’s record.

 _They’d probably remind me that I’m not suppose to molest my officers. Of course if they molest me first…_

Jim pulled himself to his feet. He tugged on his pants and slipped his feet back into his boots.

Silently, he held out his hand to Spock, who was still on the floor. Spock eyed it, and the grasped it tight. Jim pulled him up, and then reeled him in.

He kissed Spock, a soft kiss, full of gratitude that he couldn’t voice. Not yet. Maybe later, maybe never. He’d never really been a touchy feely kind of guy.

Jim stepped back a step and grinned at Spock.

“So, exactly what other things have you been hearing from my room all this time?”

The green flush on Spock’s cheeks deepened.

End.


End file.
